The Sacrifices We Make -2- Distant Echoes
by Tori Crash
Summary: It's not easy being the gifted black sheep. Sometimes you're loved, sometimes you're hated, but always, you're misunderstood. Loki swirled in these states, throwing her life from the barren path of another, to the muddy gutter of her intentions.
1. If I Wast Thine Mother

**Summary:** It's not easy being the gifted black sheep. Sometimes you're loved, sometimes you're hated, but always, you're misunderstood. Loki swirled in these states, throwing her life from the barren path of another, to the muddy gutter of her intentions.

 **Special Thanks** to my Beta, Nikki. A good teacher can inspire hope, ignite the imagination, and instill a love of learning. ~ Brad Henry

 **Story context:** "Distant Echoes", much like "What We Give Away", are a collection of tie-in stories for "The Sacrifices We Make". It'll give snapshots of Loki's life before the events of "Don't Let It Bring You Down", and give some further detail to Loki's personality. But unfortunately, and although I'm going to try to avoid it, there may be some major spoilers for the rest of "The Sacrifices We Make". Also, chapter numbers will change as I don't have an overall outline of these pieces and'll be posting them as I write them.

As for what to expect from the content itself, there will be a smattering of lore from the comic books (Mistress Death for instance), and there will be a lot of deviation from Norse mythology, but the mythology is the centre-point for my inspiration for the characters and settings.

As a side note, and it pains me to say this, some've complained that my characters are too anti-archetype, that it's difficult to care about them because they're neither clearly good nor clearly evil, and that it's hard to become fully immersed in the narrative because nothing ever really get solved and the characters just keep continuing to suffer. So, I guess I'm kinda giving a warning. These stories are very 'Dark Age' and, I think, realistic. They're basically character treatments, and like in any real person's life, some problems will never be solved, some hurts will never heal, and some things that seemed really important at one time, will just fade away.

That being said, I hope these pieces paint for you a deep and complex image of Loki's, and those that surround her, life.

 **Language context:** I'll be using some bastardized Victorian English in this story (basically fake Shakespearean) to give it a 'times of old' feel, but its use wont be consistent, and only peppered to give the flavour I'm aiming for. I'll also be using as many Old Norse proper nouns as I can (an example being seidr for sorcerer), but again, only for flavour, and only for those words which have special meaning in Norse Mythology.

 **Trigger warnings:** Loki's had a fairly horrible life and some chapters will contain a variety of triggers. These include: forced marriage, sexual, physical, and mental abuse, barbaric concepts of gender, homo/trans-phobia, graphic violence, gore, as well as others. I will of course be putting markers at the beginning and end of the worst parts so that you can skip them if you wish.

 **Explicit warning:** Loki is... hard to explain. She (and I only use 'she' because Loki spends most of her time as a female) can shift her sex, her species, duplicate herself, change her apparent age, as well as a whole plethora of other things, and there will be scenes of her exploring those concepts. Some will be more explicit than others (ie, I WILL NOT be writing any horse on horse action... eww), and a lot of weird stuff WILL be referenced (see the aforementioned eww).

As this isn't the main story, I will not be writing alternative versions and the explicit content will be exclusive to Archive of Our Own. Some chapters will simply have those parts cut out with a short explanation of why. I'm very sorry if this takes away from the story for anyone, but I'm starting to write more and more (a very good thing to me, yeah me!), and retooling a chapter just adds another layer of anxiety to my already neurotic psyche. But again, I will be putting markers at the beginning and end of such scenes so that you can skip them if you wish.

 **Chapter Summary:** The aesir war with the jötnar rages, but Frigg, Queen of Asgard, Warrior Mother, takes it upon herself to search out the threats others overlook. What she finds however, is an old friend.

The Sacrifices We Make  
Distant Echoes  
Chapter 1: If I Wast Thine Mother

The Vanr Goddess Frigg Fjörgynsdóttir, sprinted across the snow covered ice fields of Jotunheim as quickly as her legs could carry her. The fabric of her white dress and blue cape which flowed free of her silver war regalia, fluttered madly against the wind of her footballs, and trailed her movements as would a comet's tail. But not a hair in her tightly interwoven braids moved, nor did her crown or jewels or strip of royal cloth which those braids held in place.

In her right hand, she clutched at her battle-sword; in her left, she gripped her courage and fury; in her belt and vest, sat her throwing knives; and at her call hidden in shadow realm, her casting staff awaited its summons. She was prepared, she was a force, she was the lashing rage of a mother standing between her babe and the unspeakable harm.

She was her enemy's death dealer.

Before her, preparing his strike, stood a jötnar nearly twice her height, and more than four times her girth. His axe, he held above his head, poised and at the ready, and measured to split the woman in half. But Frigg was far too skilled and clever to be cleaved by this brute, and she certainly did not survive a war with the Aesir only to die at their defence.

Her sprint became a mad dash, the Giant's muscles tensed, her sword drew back, his posture lifted, her empty grip strangled; then, at the moment of his swing, her body burst into golden flame, its tendrils sucking into a ball, and just as the tail of her clothes had done, the tiny day-star streamed by his falling axe.

The jötnar roared as his blow landed in the ice, but he bellowed in pain as Frigg sprung from her light, swinging her sword into a meaty shoulder. It cut, deeply, but not as deeply as she had wished. Continuing the twisting of her body, Frigga dragged the tip of her blade across his back until it swung free; then pushed her spin with all her might to reconnect with his other side.

He turned to rage at the tiny Goddess, but in doing so, completely opened his flank to her coming blow, and she took full advantage of this. She gripped her hilt with both hands, and threw as much force as her muscles could provide.

Another hit, another scream of pain, but this time she intentionally missed his bones, and aimed for the flesh of his flank. Her sword hacked into nearly his middle as she continued her swing. Her sharp blade sliced him open with ease, but as the tip came to the edge of his wound, Frigg lunged, driving her blade blindly into his carcase.

She withdrew; then swung again, this time glancing off his head, taking a chunk of scalp with her blow. He began to topple, she struck once more, opening his throat, spraying her face and armour in his blood. He hit the ground, she raised her sword over her head; then brought it down upon his neck. His spine abated her cut, she repeated with more force, his head rolled free.

But Frigg could not celebrate her victory. In an instant, a jötnar shaped as a huge wolf lunged for her, and she only managed to keep the beast from snapping her arm in two by forcing her gauntlet into his mouth. Otherwise occupied, she abandoned her sword and quickly summoned a throwing dagger to her hand; then sunk it to its hilt into the God Animal's neck. Again and again she stabbed, jabbing with as much force as her arm would give.

A moment, or an eternity later, the jötnar's jaws lost their grip, and she rolled free from under his lifeless body. To be certain it was truly dead however, she drew her sword to her hand, and separated its head from its body.

Standing in the carnage, Frigg growled with each pant, her blood thundering in her veins, her muscles tense and ready, her magic straining for release. She had never bloodlust before, and she did not think herself it now. No, she was angry, enraged, simply furious at this useless war her husband insisted upon. How many families would be brought corpses in place of loved ones? How many warriors would trudge home to greet their kin with missing limbs?

A sound drew her attention, and only barely did she manage not to loose a dagger into Eir's foolish eye.

"I see you need none's help," the Healer smiled.

"Have you come to spy," Frigg replied flatly.

"Nothing of the sort my Queen. I come only to see to your needs."

"I need nothing Eir. Now be gone, I battle best on my own."

"But your Highness-"

Frigg cut her off. "Tell my /darling/ husband that I keep my oaths. Now, as I said." She stared harsher into Eir. "Be. Gone."

The ásynja stumbled backward at the sight of her Queen. All of Asgard saw her as their benevolent and kind leader, not as this fury soaked warrior, dripping enemy's blood from her face and hands. The sight birthed and nurtured a new fear of Frigg in Eir's stomach.

Frigg stood prouder, as she watched the Woman trudge away. At the moment, she cared very little over the Healer's fear, she had a quest to complete, a task none but herself found important. Aesir were far too often mindless of the danger the devoted could pose, and so it was to her alone to journey toward the temples and sacred grounds, to weed out those that could become a threat far greater than a few warriors blustering about.

These two easy kills could be sentries, they could be a mass's sacrifice, the first to fall in order to alert others. But Frigg felt no magic in the air, nothing which could be used as signal. And yet, they were here, they did attack.

She forced her senses sharper with a voiceless chant, repeating soundless words again and again with nothing but her breath. In the distance, she could barely hear something. A cry perhaps? A whimper? Something small for certain, but powerful. Her ears could be fooled by a tender voice, but her seidr would not mistake the ripened breath behind it.

With a flick of her hand, Frigg transformed the blue of her cape to white; then pulled it around herself to stealthen her approach. The temple she knew to be hidden amongst the snow, could be minutes away, hours even, but the power she sensed was too great to ignore, too dangerous to be let unchecked.

Could it be Laufey, commanding her forces from a safety? Or Skadi, hidden away as a fall back? Neither could she fell on her lonesome, but nor could they send her to Fólkvangr themselves. But nor could Frigg stay an army of worshippers.

There was something however, something about this magic, something familiar. She could taste it in the howl of the wind, smell it in the bite of the cold, but the memory full, alluded her senses, and it drove her forward, perhaps even to foolishness. But with each step, the unknown power escaped her senses further. It was like following the most delicate of fragrances, one was sure they had smelled something wondrous, but one could also never capture it again.

The snow and wind were bitter against her skin, countless tiny slaps striking her face, fingerless claws digging into her thighs, angry howls pushing at her steps. She hated the cold, Vanaheimr was never cold, it was always pleasant, always perfect. Her perfect home, lost to her say for a few wondrously pleasurable days in a march of nearly unhappy weeks. This march however, was much less than unhappy. It was miserable. Frigg was miserable.

The sound again. To her left. It was definitely a cry, and if it had not been for that happenchance, she would have walked by the temple before her, completely mindless of its presence. Though she could feel no magic from it, it did hide itself, it did evade her as if a mastery were at its call. Ancient. Yes, it must be ancient, not holding a magic she or any breathing being could fathom, but an age which gave the very stone a mind of its own.

Slowly, she crept in, thankful beyond reason to be out of the elements. But the interior offered no warmth, no welcome hug of a pleasant temperature. That was telling. To offer no comfort say for a barrier to the wind? This was a temple of trials, of conditioning one's self against the complacency of decadence. But it was empty? Not a soul about.

Frigg drew her sword and allowed it to scrape along the ground, night stars showering from the contact. She sought to draw out those hidden here, to intimidate them into action. But only the sound of her own foot balls, breath, and bluster met her.

A cry, most assuredly a cry, from the altar. But the whiff of seidr which had enticed her so, was gone, swallowed by the unknown.

Carefully, blade held back and at shoulder height, she pushed toward the stone casket, toward the changeling which could hide itself from her senses, but yet, drew her near.

Her grip upon her hilt tightened, her empty fingers clawed at an invisible ball, her breath slowed, her skin tingled; then...

"By the nines!" she breathed.

It was a babe, no doubt left upon the altar of winter to either survive and prove itself worthy of life, or be returned to The Mistress to suffer not. But the glorious child looked as though it was truly suffering, its eyelids purple, fingers and lips blue, nose and ears red, and its perfect puffy little cheeks, a sickening black.

The Babe's head snapped to the sound of Frigg's sword sheathing, and when its eyes met its would be rescuer, brandished its only weapon, but the powerful one it knew it to be. The nearly naked infant began to cry, far too cool tears slipping from both eyes.

Frigg's heart broke, and she was upon the child in an instant, scooping it up and placing its frigid body against her neck and face.

"Cry not dearest one," she soothed, "I am here. Shhh, be still."

To her astonishment, the Babe did settle, and immediately tugged at her hair.

She unwrapped its fingers from her ruined braid. "A trouble maker, are we?"

The Child's bright green eyes shone beautifully and innocently up at her; then it blew a breath between its lips and tongue, spraying Frigg in slobber.

"You cheeky nave." This babe, half dead, barely old enough to know its own name, playing her for its fancy. Frigg's eyes went wide. "Loki?"

Could it be? Loki had been missing since their last Ragnarok. He should be as old as she, older in fact. He should be near the age of Odin, and yet, here he might be, younger than Thor, born before Baldr. But how could this be? He had been so distraught during the coming of the last fall. No, his melancholy had followed him through many rebirths. He had confessed to Frigg of his distaste for life, of his desire to never be born again. Had he convinced the Mistress to stay in her embrace for a few centuries longer? Or had he taken his own life as an infant, only to be reborn again and again.

A swift cold foot to her nose, drew her back to Loki's angelic, and quite amused face.

"Forever the trickster," she smirked at him.

Loki blew bubbles in his spittle as reply.

"Remain here," she told him, wrapping him up in her cape and laying him down in the cask.

She could almost hear her dear friend's snide remark. What would it be, she wondered. 'Where shall I go Frigg? Shall I roll upon the floor till I reach some place unknown? The corner past the column perhaps?'

Hearing his words in her mind, she could not help but smile at the far too young should-be source of them. In turn, he smiled back, as if he had actually spoken them.

Without a moment's more delay, she cupped her hands, summoning a small goose, which she tossed at the entrance to fly into the storm. Her sister would come to her call, and together, they would unravel this mystery.

Frigg cast a healing glow into Loki's tiny body, healing his frostbite and general cold. Laufey would be furious, interfering with her child's right of passage. But what right hath a mother to subject such a helpless being to such savagery.

As if sensing her thought, or perhaps missing the attention, Loki proved is utter lack of defencelessness, and through a ball of seidr at Frigg's head.

She jerked back; then stared daggers at the giggling little imp. His cast had been messy, unfocused, and utterly without refine, but it wreaked of the Trickster's special brand of mischief.

"Laugh will you?"

She poked her finger into his middle, causing him to look shocked at her. But she should have surely realized that Loki would not be detoured from his fun, by such a minor reprimand, as he blew spittle on her arm.

"Oh you wilful little urchin." With the Babe Loki's cries of delight, she tickled and pinched him unmercifully. In a moment or two, he quieted, and Frigg looked down her lashes at him. "Be that a lesson dearest one. Behave, or mother will be forced to truly punish you."

Her smile faded. Mother. If she were Loki's mother, could he find happiness? Would he be so terribly obsessed with making the unrighteous pay? If she could show him a life Laufey could never, would he be so intent on bringing Ragnarok upon their heads?

"Wife? Are you here?"

Odin. At the moment, he was as an unwelcome presence if there ever there was one. "I am here."

"And it seems you have found someone," Odin boomed good-naturedly. "Is he as dangerous as you suspected."

Eir would be given some awful chore, Frigg would make sure of it. "You haven't an idea of how so."

He smirked; then petted the Babes head.

Loki looked back, pondering the man before him.

"I intend to take him as my own, just as I have Vali and Vadar."

"Are you sure my love?"

Frigg needed to tread with care, she had only one chance. "Yes husband. He may be an orphan, left here to suffer unto Death. I simply cannot leave him to it, not when I can give him a home and mother.

Odin smiled, but not an entirely pleasant one. It was indulgent, condescending, dismissive. "Of course my dear Frigg, you may take the child as your own if you wish."

"And you will abide by your oath? You will treat him as your own?"

"Of course wife. If he be yours, he be mine." He smiled again, this time with genuine pleasure.

But Frigg saw they oily wantonness shadowed behind his gaze. She turned away from him, intent on changing Loki's diaper. Perhaps later she would indulge him, if he did not anger her terribly much. It was such a disappointment when he did, he was such a specimen of a man, if only he could keep his mouth silent.

The poor little dear Loki's clothes were frozen, and Frigg took the utmost care not to injure his boyhood, but when she pried the solid sheet from his body, she saw...

"Oh, the Babe be a girl wife, excellent!" Odin exuded. "An example for the boys. She will teach them how to treat the fairest of sexes."

Frigg sighed, another night with nothing but her need and her own hands. "Yes Odin, that is exactly what she will be."

She cut a square from her cape, and thought on the implications. Was Loki always bore a girl? Did she choose manhood so that she would not be stifled by the curse of being born a woman? It was well known that Loki could shift shape at will, from male to female to anything she could imagine, but when carried within her mother's womb, when slipped between trembling thighs, was the God of Mischief truly a Goddess?

Then Odin bent down to caress the Child's brow, because Frigg knew he could be tender at times, but Loki shifted at his touch, turning male before their eyes.

For a moment Odin was stunned, staring down at this oddity. There was only one creature he knew to be able to do such a trick... "Loki!" he growled, pulling a knife from his belt and thrusting it at the damned scourge's face.

Frigg was quicker. Summoning a blade to her hand, she sunk every inch of it into his worthless prick, twisting as a measure of spite for his company.

Odin stumbled backward, collapsing on a step. He pulled the dagger from his body with a scream and healed himself as quickly as possible. The venomous betrayer Vanr of his had returned to tending Loki, almost happily in her ministrations, but soon she would know wrath.

"Do you believe you would survive a new war so soon after this one?" she questioned offhandedly.

"What I do to you now Fjörgynsdóttir, none will contest. You hath broken your word."

"Have I?" Frigg asked pleasantly. "Or have I forced you to keep yours." At the oafs silence, she continued, "you vowed to nurture and protect our children." She turned and gave him a smile that would curdle any's insides. "And you did just take our dearest Loki as your own."

Odin advanced over her, his seidr flaring around them. "You played me the fool Vanr, and none will refuse me my satisfaction!"

"Be you sure husband?" She grinned menace as she exposed her throat to him. "Be sure of this, or Loki need not bring Ragnarok to our lands."

At that moment, Frigg's goose came frantically through the door, chased by a hawk set upon a meal, and as she caught her messenger, Odin stomped off to his war, ignoring them all.

The hawk fluttered around Frig and the Babe's head, squawking and making a nuisance of itself.

"Freyja, must you scare my bird so. They hardly bring you your messages as is."

The fluttering of feathers shifted into the form of a coat, just as the former wearer flung it over her shoulder. "An infant Frigg? In a war to end all wars, and you find a child."

"Be silent." She glared death at her sister. "This, is Loki."

"Loki?" The Goddess knelt closer. "Mmm, even as a Babe, he is such a beauty."

"Your depravity disgusts me."

Freyja laughed, not the dainty one she reserved for most company, but a full bodied and throated one. "Be still /all-mother/ I would never truly rob a cradle." She watched as Loki's form shifted at her sister's touch. "But the wait will be torturous."

"You are the beast we tell our children of."

"Be silent prude."

"I am no prude, lecher!" Frigg shouted.

Loki began to giggle and blow bubbles at her entertainment.

"Yes my wonderful little halfling, come to Freyja on your day of turning, and she will show you the very heart of the Norns."

"Be that, Aunt Freyja."

The Goddess chuckled musically. "Oh my dearest Frija, so long have you lived amongst the Aesir."

"Do shut up."

Dressed anew, and much warmer, Loki found everything quite entertaining. The two large beings made the most interesting of sounds at one another, and the warm one was very soft. Much better than the coldness of before. She found the new one strangely hypnotic, but she was hungry, and they had ignored her for long enough. So, she let out a sharp yelp.

Frigg stopped dead in her rant. "By Earth and Night."

"What?" Freyja was genuinely confused.

"Loki is hungry."

The Goddess rolled her eyes. "And how doth you know this, /oh mother of all mothers/."

"Thor is still nursing."

Freyja stared blankly.

"Her cry has caused milk to leak from my breast, do you know nothing?"

"Children are your domain Frija."

"Yes, and all that is yours, is that act in which makes them," Frigg snipped back. "And do not call me that."

"Frija," Freyja caressed her sister's neck lovingly, "you mustn't abandon all you are for these Aesir."

"I swore an Oath."

"Yes my darling Frija, but by no means should you lose yourself for it."

The Queen's lips pursed in misery and frustration.

"Hmm? Frija? Breaker of glass and clay? Bane of the night watch? Lover whom will make breakfast in the morn?"

"Do shut up Frey." She smiled up at her sister.

The Goddess giggled. "If I were silent? How would you know I still lived?"

Frigg pulled her sister to her, kissing her, but Loki made her presence known once again with a sharp shrill cry.

"I cannot feed you dearest one. This be war, and the worst of them."

"I will stand lookout Frija. Nurse the little peace breaker before I make an attempt."

"You are vile," she pushed the other Vanr away. "Go, watch the snow."

"As you wish my queen."

Frigg magicked herself out of her armour; pulled an arm from a sleeve; then cradled Loki's head on her forearm. She swept a tuft of the Trickster's hair down against her forehead, and watched as she suckled, her tiny little fingers flexing and pinching at the skin of her breast. She caressed the palm of her once friend, now daughter's hand, causing her to clasp and settle. She gently massaged Loki's back as she drank her fill, and although Frigg was far from good at it, she began to sing a song she remembered from her own mother.

"My girl, my girl, lie not to me. Tell me where will you sleep tonight."

She smiled into her Dearest Babe's bright green eyes. "'Cause you cause me to weep, and you cause me to mourn. Dear you cause me to lose, my mind."

She kissed Loki's forehead. "So my girl, my girl, tell me where will you go. 'Cause your mother simply must know."

"In your arms, in your arms, where the sun will ever shine, and where I sleep the cold, night through."

"'Cause your kiss be sweet, and your hug be warm. And 'cause mother you love me so."

Frigg beamed down into Loki's rapt attention. "You will have such adventures My Dearest One. And you will be loved well by whomever you choose."


	2. Mother of Mothers

**Summary:** A mother wants what's best for her children, even if she has no idea what that is, and even, if they haven't been born yet.

 **Author's Notes:** Yeah, I know I'm getting a little crazy with the back story here, but, Frigg just sorta... said it. I was a little surprised at first, but then, I was like, coo, how will Toni fit this into her theories when she finds out.

Thank you so much for reading, following, bookmarking, everything. Without all of you, well, I'd just be the crazy lady telling stories to herself.

The Sacrifices We Make  
Distant Echoes  
Chapter 2: Mother Of Mothers

Loki snuck up to the pillar carefully, unwilling to let his presence be known. His quarry was crafty, seemingly all knowing, and if not careful, he would be discovered. But, this was also a very old game between them. He would creep up on her, she would sometimes spot him, and sometimes she would not. Both were filled with a measure of joy, but when he could surprise her, it truly filled his heart with wonder.

Because Father was no where to be seen, and because he knew this part of the palace was safe, and, because he knew she would silently wish it, Loki allowed his female form to shift to the surface. She was still young, so not much changed, but she did subconsciously alter her royal garb slightly to better match her skin.

At the command of her magic, her braid crown unknotted itself, letting her hair flow freely to her shoulder-blades, the neck of her sheer black shirt, lowered slightly and sprouted a darling lace frill, her equally black tunic's mouth, opened wide and grew lace as well, her trousers, black of course, shrank around the cuff, likewise thickening with lace, her cape, lengthened to drag along the floor, and finally, her dark green belt, grew a fringe of heavy lace.

Loki adored lace, it was her third favourite thing in all the realms. Her brother Thor recently being demoted from that position to the fourth, the Oaf! And she wore it whenever possible. Even in male form, she could occasionally get away with small accents here and there, and sometimes, she would even find praise for summoning a table runner of intricately weaved white strands. Like a net, fashioned to capture beauty.

Smiling mindlessly to herself, Loki imagined a dress, or leggings, made entirely of black lace. From neck to wrist to ankle, wrapped and bound in thinly tangled beauty. Sheathed in glorious wonderful.

"What brings such delight to your lips Dearest One?"

Panic. Her day dream had left her open to a counter. Disastrous! She had failed to sneak up on her mother, failed to show her what a good stealthy warrior she could be. Tears stung her eyes at the prospect of the lost words of approval. Father hated her. Despite her Mother's assurances that this was not so, she knew this to be true. But he loved Thor, not her. She had to share mothers love with her brothers, but it was all she had, and she clung to it desperately. She drowned without it.

Frigg lifted Loki into her arms, wrapping her in a tight warm embrace. "Cry not my Dearest Loki. Tell mother what has turned your heart from happiness, to such misery."

She could not. No one could know of her failures, of her needs. Weakness was an exploit all would take advantage of. And, it would make father hate her all the more.

"Is it because you did not surprise me my Dear?"

Like a pane of glass, Loki felt transparent, as if nothing was left to the unknown.

"If not to your mother Little Peace Breaker, will you secret your worry to your beautiful aunt Freyja?"

Freyja was truly beautiful, not as beautiful as mother, but much more so than any other Loki had set eyes on. It was not hard for her to whisper her distress into the perfect ear offered. "I am a failed warrior."

Frigg sheltered Loki closer to her chest. "Freyja, you will not use such seidr on my babe!"

The Goddess sighed. "Settle your womanhood Frija, you were entirely correct. Loki feels a failure. How such an argr could become the bane of all-"

The Queen seethed and advanced on her kin.

"I mean nothing by it Frija. I only wonder, how, such a sensitive, and..."

"I know it difficult for you Frey, but it may be best if you stop speaking." Frigg's demeanour shifted to understanding and concern as she moved to hold Loki's worried eyes. "Is this true my Dearest Love?"

Loki nodded, eyes down cast. "Yes mother. I wanted to make you proud. I failed."

She gently kissed her child's temple. "I am proud of you my Loki, and you did not fail. I was quite surprised. I had narry an idea that you be there until I turned and saw your beautiful smile."

"I am beautiful?"

"Yes my Dearest, very beautiful. And handsome, whatever your form."

Loki swallowed her tears and bit the insides of her lips. "More so than Thor?"

Frigg smiled brilliantly, bent her head, and whispered in the most gentle of breaths. "You are so much more beautiful than Thor Dearest."

It only took a moment for the Little Girl to find the flaw in her mother's words. "And more handsome?"

"You are both so very handsome Dear."

Loki sulked at the reply.

"By the nines girl!" Freyja bellowed in a very unladylike voice, "how can you be so starved! You lap at the teet of adore as if it were honey soaked bread, as if you be the ugliest in the realms! How can you be such an oaf! Owe!"

Frigg gave her sister a menacing smile as she removed her boot from atop the other Vanr's foot. "What Freyja means my Dear, is that you are very attractive, and intelligent, and she wonders why you think it not so?"

Loki began to cry again. "None love me. None but my brothers play with me."

"Oh Dearest Loki-"

"No girl wishes to befriend me."

The palace had so few little girls Loki's age, and it made Frigg's heart sink that she had not considered this sooner. Loki was as much a girl as she was a boy, she craved the trappings of womanhood as much as manhood, and in her past lives, Loki had mothered just as many children as she had fathered. Frigg had been foolish, simple, she needed to tend to all of her babe's needs, not just the ones she assumed.

A warm open smile spread over the Queens face as she caressed her little girl's hairline. "Then, it is most fortunate that I have summoned your cousins to the Realm Eternal."

"My cousins?"

"The six maidens of virtue my Dearest." Frigg held out her palm, conjuring an image of each girl atop it as she spoke their name. "Vör the careful... Vár the faithful... Sága the seer... Sjöfn the loved... Hlín the protecter... And Snotra the prudent... They will be here soon Dear, and I speak with the certainty of the norns when I say, they will find you as lovely, and wish to play with you, as much as I."

Loki's heart soared, her eyes lit with delight. More playmates. Ones who will wish to pretend, and read, and pick flowers, and spit on the boys. Ones who will be impressed by her magic, and practice their own! The joy flowed from her very core, sending her wiggling from her mothers grasp.

"I must prepare. Baldr must be taught not to belch. And Thor, to be more gentle. Hodr, to control his hunger. And..." Her voice faded as she ran down the hall.

Frigg turned to her sister only to be met by a frown.

"Have you truly called upon, /our/, cousins Frija?"

"I will have." The Queen held her head high. "It is a matter of prospective."

"Of course," Freyja drolled, "today's lie, is simply tomorrows truth."

Frigg soured.

"You have become quite the politician."

"There is no need to insult me Frey. I only wish for Loki to be happy."

"Why?"

Frigg started at Freyja's flat question. "Why?"

"Yes Frija, why. Loki will destroy us all, even if she does not wish to. It is her destiny, all *our* destinies. Why would you waste such effort on her happiness, when she will cause all such misery."

"Waste?" Tears nearly filled the Goddess' eyes. "Being a mother to any, is never a waste. Loki, at the moment, is only a child, with no memory of her past, or her future. Perhaps it was her desire to be so, but even if, she is as deserving as any child to feel love, to be cherished. And have you forgotten how often she had defended the realm, how frequently she played uncle to Thor. Or how horribly we have treated her, and Sigyn, and her children. By the nines Freyja, we bring Ragnarok down upon ourselves. Loki is the most powerful being in all the realms, and yet, never do we treat her as an equal. And how often have you bedded her? And did you ever love her when you did so?"

"No," Freyja whispered.

"Look at that child," Frigg pointed to the empty hall, "she only wishes to please. She has set herself to task, to turning her brothers into gentlemen, so that girls she as never met, will enjoy their company. Tell me Frey, what do you wish me to do? Do you wish me to cast her back into the snow, to send her back into Laufey's neglectful embrace? Do you truly wish to tear what little happiness she clings to, away?"

The Goddess said nothing, her eyes downcast.

"Tell me." Frigg grabbed her sister's sleeve.

"Loki will never be happy, none of us will ever. We are far older than our years, tired, used beyond our means. Most shuffle from Ragnarok to Ragnarok, trying desperately to battle boredom and monotony. But Loki, Loki has been gifted new eyes. The Mistress saw fit to bestow upon her a new mind, were every breath is fresh, and yet, left the rest of us the same." Slowly, Freyja met her sister's eyes. "How much more will they hate her for it."

Pain and desperation stabbed through Frigg's chest. "I will not let harm come to her, and if I must, I will take her misery as my own."

"Only because you are as disheartened as the rest of us."

"You know nothing. Loki fills me with such happiness, such joy. She brings adventure and mystery to her brothers. We have accepted her gifts so infrequently in the past, none of us know how much she offered. All the realms could have been filled with wonderful chaos, each lifetime could have been new and unique, instead, we clung to our petty stable lives. But I refuse, I refused before Loki even came to me. I learned from her lessons long ago, and I cast off my responsibilities as a seer. Now, everything is darkness."

"What... Are you saying."

Frigg's lips twisted into a half crazed smile. "I have changed all our futures. I saw into the scrying pool as a child, and I kept not silent, and I meddled until my gift was taken. Thor is not Odin's, he is Fárbauti's, Loki's true brother. And it was I who poisoned Bor, and I who fostered the war with the Frost Giants, and I who killed Sunna. None will be the same, I will see to it. When the time comes, a new age will be birthed into the realm."

"Your mind has departed you Frija."

"And if it has, what have we to lose? One miserable lifetime in a stagnant sea of pasts?"

Freyja stayed silent, but considered.

"I went to Midgard in my first year as a Woman, and I birthed six daughters with the mortals there."

"The primitive hairy animals!?"

"Yes. I gave the Midgardians what remained of my power."

"You gave them the gift of sight..." Freyja was aghast.

"I did. And one day, they will rival the gods." Frigg swallowed in fear, but stood proud none-the-less. "They may even learn to defy the Mistress herself."

"None escape Mistress Death's grasp Frija, none."

The half smile turned full and knowing. "You are wrong, we are made to believe such obvious foolishness, but, we all escape her grasp, and repeatedly, with our every birth. We believe her to be more powerful than us all combined, yet, here we are, alive.

"Midgardians understood nothing, they foraged and hunted and slept in caves and trees, and even now, they breed like animals, but unlike before, they now create, they have understandings beyond themselves. They teach their children, and they in turn teach *their* children, and each adds to the knowledge of the past. They are all as Loki and I are now, passing on their lives to the next, not born into bodies we have always held, not living for eternities with nothing to look forward to."

"You can *not* simply create a new race Frija, none of us have that power."

"I already have Freyja, and they are no Golem. They each hold the potential of the gods within them."

"You..."

"They have carved idols of me, and worship womanhood."

Freyja stood in stunned silence. Either her sister had created an escape for all their miseries, or she had created their utter destruction. A peoples they could hope a better future on, or vicious uncontrollable intelligent animals they should all fear. Whichever it turned out to be, the old Loki would have loved it.


End file.
